They Held My Funeral While I Was Still Breathing. Then My Seven-Year-Old Nephew Looked Into the Coffin and Said, “Mommy, Aunt Madelyn Is Looking at Me”
“It wasn’t the insurance money.
It wasn’t the plan to move to Minneapolis.
It wasn’t even the poisoned milk.” I leaned toward the glass.
“It was that you laughed.
Delilah asked if there was any chance I might wake up.
And you laughed.”
His throat moved.
“You were heavily sedated, Madelyn.
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